


If You Wanna

by drifttheory



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Angst, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Hermann hates him for it, M/M, Nerds in Love, Newt's doing his best, Post-Movie(s), University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 02:23:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3592755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drifttheory/pseuds/drifttheory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Come on, dude, what’s the big deal?”<br/>Hermann’s eyes bore into the space between Newt’s brows. “Because you’re asking me to marry you, you bloody idiot.” </p><p>In which there’s only one teaching spot available at MIT, unless, of course, that teacher has a spouse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Wanna

Hermann sighed heavily, setting the last of his lab notebooks into their labeled box. Packing, an exhausting labor for anyone else, was especially taxing for him. The constant bending, kneeling, and lifting was murder on his leg, and the reliving of various memories his things brought up terribly tiring.

After two straight days of boxing all of his things, he was beat, relieved to discover his side of the lab was entirely empty, save for the pile of boxes and his chalkboard. Palming his cane, he walked over to it, beginning the arduous task of wiping away his calculations with a designated rag. It was something he’d been putting off unabashedly, shockingly fond of the chalk scribblings and how they had, in part, saved the world.

He’d miss his chalkboard. He’d miss his impeccably clean side of the lab. He’d even miss the Shatterdome, despite the constant, looming dread that filled it as the attack clock ticked without fault, and all the people in it.

Some more than others.

“Christ. Herms, you’re finished already?”

Too tired to argue with him about the nickname, Hermann spared Newt an annoyed glance as he entered the lab. “I, unlike yourself, take deadlines seriously. We’re supposed to be cleared out by next week.”

“Exactly. _Next week._ If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re eager to get out of here.” Newt smirked, but the humor didn’t reach his eyes.

“And if I am? This place has consumed us for the past five years. Why wouldn’t I be eager to return to normality?” Giving up on the chalkboard for the moment, he returned to the desk, hefting the box under his free arm and approaching the pile, hobbling as he went.

“Dude, let me give you a hand.” He reached out to take the box, drawing back at Hermann’s scowl.

“I don’t need your help, Newton,” he snapped, setting the box on the top of the pile with a breath of relief. Newt frowned.

“Our lives haven’t been normal in twelve years, man, what are you expecting?” Newt asked. “Do you think we’re just going to go and live like nothing happened?”

“Of course not,” Hermann said shortly. “However, I do look forward to going about my life without the constant threat of utter destruction.”

Newt ran a hand through his hair, letting out a breath through his teeth. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. It’ll be different, though.”

“Of course it will. Everything’s changed.” Hermann said with a wave of his hand, returning to the chalkboard and picking up the rag. Newt followed absentmindedly.

“I’m kinda worried, though,” he said, wiping an equation away with his sleeve. Ignoring the normally shout-worthy act due to being somewhat pleased with the help, Hermann raised an eyebrow.

“Why would that be?”

“I’m worried I . . . forgot some stuff. How to be normal, you know? How to get along with other people in the real world.”

“You’re good with people, Newton. People like you.” Newt looked at him curiously.

“You mean that?”

“Just because I don’t doesn’t mean others do.” Wounded for a moment, Newt averted his gaze, relieved to see a small smile in his peripheral.

“See?” He said, climbing a few rungs of the ladder to reach a matrix, “I knew you didn’t hate me.”

“I was inside your head, Newton. It’s hard to despise someone after sharing a consciousness.”

“You never hated me, though,” Newt said. “Not really.”

Hermann rolled his eyes. “You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?”

“I was in your head, too,” he smiled. “And for the record, I never hated you,” Newt said earnestly. “You just infuriated me.”

“Past tense,” Hermann commented, smirking. “Are you saying I don’t infuriate you anymore?”

Newt laughed, sincerely. “I wouldn’t go that far. You did, after all, completely clean your side of the lab with four days to spare. That’s pretty infuriating.”

Finished with one side of the board, Hermann moved to the next. “Ah, yes, I did it just to spite you. How very evil of me.”

“There’s the Hermann I know and shout at,” Newt grinned, looking up at the massive spread of chalk that remained.

“Hey, uh, Hermann?”

“Yes?”

“Your leg . . . It’s killing you, right?”

Hermann nearly groaned, internally cursing the lingering ghost of the drift. “Yes, it is,” he said through his teeth.

“Why don’t you go sit down, I’ll finish the chalkboard. And I refuse to take no for an answer,” he added quickly, at Hermann’s open mouth and finger jab.

“Fine. Just . . . be gentle.”

Newt nodded, smiling softly. “Yeah, dude. I will.”

* * *

_Four days._

Newt tried not to think about it.

In the weeks before, he’d been excited. Almost. It was a befuddling mix of anticipation and anxiety for the future, but one that he stomached nonetheless.

In the wake of the war, he and Hermann had both received a number of stellar offers from various universities and research facilities. Guest lectures, keynote speeches, and mentorships aplenty, as well as a few much more coveted teaching positions.

Both he and Hermann had agreed those were their best bets. They could get tenure, security, and control over their far less chaotic lives, as well as a consistent space to teach and research.

But no single university held a spot for both of them. Unfortunately, no institution conveniently had openings in both their biology and engineering departments.

Hermann had brushed it off, naturally, and much to Newt’s dismay.

_“I’m sure you’re quite sick of sharing a lab with me, Newton. Some space will be good for us.”_

Newt had swallowed hard, and agreed. Half-heartedly. He couldn’t tell whether or not it was the lingering pull of the drift that made separating from Hermann so difficult to consider or his own misplaced feelings toward the crotchety mathematician.

Both options were equally unsavory.

The worst bit was, Newt knew Hermann had one particular school in mind. It was the reason he had reached out to Newt specifically twelve years previously.

Because Newt was the second-youngest student ever admitted to MIT, and, upon earning his sixth doctorate, began teaching there.

They had reached out to Newt almost immediately, offering him his old spot back. Hermann had stiffly given him his congratulations, then stomped off to his bunk in a huff. Newt angrily did the same.

As he lay in bed he knew Hermann was just being . . . well, Hermann. He was stubborn and moody and driven and Newt thought it made him brilliant. Even if he was a complete dick most of the time.

The next day, he’d apologized, a miracle Newt never thought he’d live to see. He explained through tight lips that MIT’s engineering department was one he dearly coveted, and upon his request to be considered for a position he was denied, and informed that they, regretfully, had none open, except in special circumstances.

 _“Special circumstances,”_ he had blustered, _“What could they possibly mean by that?”_

Newt worried that he knew the answer, and, just as a test, made an inquiry that very night.

_At this time, Dr. Geiszler, the only exceptions we can make are to alumni, alumni offspring, and, of course, spouses._

Newt sat back in his chair, rubbing his eyes as they strained to focus on the laptop’s screen.

Hermann wanted to teach at MIT.

Newt wanted to teach at MIT.

Newt didn’t want to leave Hermann, and he knew, somewhere under that ridiculous haircut and thick skull that Hermann didn’t want to leave him, either.

And he didn’t need the drift to know that.

(But it was pretty nice to have the extra confirmation.)


End file.
